


You're cold (I once was too)

by CanadianAnchor



Series: DTSS Winter Prompt Week [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abandonment, Betaed, Cold Weather, DTSS prompt week, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Kinda, Open to Interpretation, Vague, pretty proud of this one actually...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanadianAnchor/pseuds/CanadianAnchor
Summary: “Technoblade never dies!” he cried out at age six.How fleeting is life when you realize how close to the end you are?
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Series: DTSS Winter Prompt Week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062419
Comments: 4
Kudos: 101
Collections: Dream Team Safespace Prompt Week 2020





	You're cold (I once was too)

Techno fumbled through the snow, his tears freezing on his face. The windy cold of the forest penetrated his threadbare cloak. His feet, bare, were long since numb, feeling lost to the freeze. His fingers were blackened and blistered, like a shadow crawling up his limbs. Maybe he would die.

_ “Technoblade never dies!” he cried out at age six. _

_  
_ _  
_ How fleeting is life when you realize how close to the end you are?

Techno collapsed to his knees, shuddering and so  _ unbearably cold he was burning.  _ Hark, the angels sing, they beckon him on feathery wings. He wants to reach for them with his hell dipped hands. He wants to spread his own wings and  _ stop the pain, please _ . 

He’s desperate. For the first time in his twelve years of life, he’s on his knees, begging for  _ it _ to come faster. To envelope him and never leave. Snowflakes cover his eyelashes and shoulders, they twirled about in the air like bards on a stage. Graceful and ever-flowing. 

Techno had wanted to be a bard, once upon a time. He longed for their molten gold, pouring outward from them like an urn. They cast and spun tales, conjuring up conflicts in their footsteps. He wanted to be that. He wanted to sing splendor into the hearts of many.

His father, a face Techno didn’t bother to remember, insisted he fight. He was taught all the weapons of the world, to slash, to parry. 

_ “Faster! Stronger! Technoblade should never die!”  _

He can recall easily the grit of the dirt and the burning hilt of the blade. How the handle of a shield branded into his arm.

His whole being ached to think about it now. For all he loved, he loved alone. Maybe that was a sign, for his death to be abandoned in the snow, utterly, completely, alone. 

Techno drew in a stinging shuddering breath.  _ A little further,  _ the spindly dark trees beckoned, stark against the white.  _ Come yonder young child. _

Who was he to disobey?

He grasped weakly at the snow, to answer the forest’s call that echoed around him. The wind carried it’s sweet melody away, further, and deeper. Techno trudged on, ignorant of the cold and his own hunger. Maybe that was a gift only those who had nothing to lose could have. 

He was oh so aware each numbed step took him further from home. Or maybe it didn’t. He had nothing to his name anymore, nothing other than the clothes on his back and his memories. Memories, what use were memories? They plagued his mind, ricocheting like a bullet. Over and over and over-

_ “Techno! Show me how to swing a sword!” a little girl pleaded. _

He refused to remember her. 

The forest crowded him in, the snow swirling around him. A story, well worn, well remembered, beat in his head. 

_ “There once was a man, who loved the world and all its people. He protected them. But he was no mere mortal, he was an eternal being whose everlasting light couldn’t be snuffed. A beast stormed into the city, to which he fought valiantly, showing his hidden feathers for all to see. He saved them. But instead of a warm thanks, he was met with a closed gate. Abandoned by all those he loved. They say he still lurks, calling to those lost like him. _

_ Be careful young one, for the world isn’t as fair as you’re told.” _

Techno lived by those words. They resonated in his bones, swirling in his head like a well-stirred soup. He barely registered the crunch of snow ahead of him. He was so… tired.

A pair of dark boots stepped into his fuzzy snowflake covered vision. That was new.

“Technoblade,” a voice called. 

He struggled to latch onto it, separate it from the sounds in his head. The wind blew harshly in his ear. The voice kept talking, slicing clear through the din of  _ everything _ . A hand touched his shoulder, sending a burning jolt of warmth through him that immediately made him crave more.

“You’re lost,” he processed the words, albeit slowly.

Technoblade looked up, meeting piercing blue eyes framed by spun blonde hair. They had a pale blue and white cloak and hat. Maybe those were a pair of fluffy white wings, maybe not. Everything seemed to shift around in his vision. Was any of this even real?

_ “Dreams are a reality waiting to happen,” his mother said. _

“I- I’m lost,” he rasped out. When did he sound so much older?

The man reached down, grabbing his hand with a gloved one. Techno felt a fire pulse up his fingers. “I shall take you home.”

_ Home is where the heart is. _

Techno nodded silently, stumbling along behind the man as they walked on.  _ Home _ echoed in his brain over and over, filling the shadows of his mind. How close was he to death? A brush? A mere side-step in their everlasting dance?

Home sounded fictional now, a glaring emptiness where it used to be. Just himself and the snow, but now there was a man. A man who by all means looked like an angel. Maybe he was dead. Maybe somewhere along the line, his body succumbed to the cold. 

He squinted as the trees parted way, the snow stopping right at the edge. That wasn’t normal. Nothing was. It was a small little cabin, a house with smoke coming out the chimney and a warm light pouring out the windows.

The man led him inside, letting the burning fire warm his insides. Warm. A blanket was draped over his shoulders, soft and fluffy. Warm. A steaming bowl of soup was placed on his lap along with a spoon. Warm. 

_ “The consciousness of loving and being loved brings a richness to life that nothing else can bring.” a book he read once prosed. _

Everything was so warm. He was home.

\--

Techno glided onward, axe slung over his shoulder. A boar mask covered his face, snug and a shield against the bitter biting wind. He walked across the top of the snow, a feat by all means impossible. He did it anyway.

Phil had told him to be back by morning if he found no one. Techno had agreed. He’d be back by sun-high tomorrow. 

_ “You’re the first,” Phil said one day. “You’re not the last, you’ll never be the last.” _

He pressed a hand up against a tree as he passed, a good luck charm. A habit. The trees watch them after all.

That’s when he came across the next. The next had a yellow sweater and wild brown hair that spilled out a dark beanie to cover one eye. Maybe there was a crazed look in those mocha irises. A scared frozen cold teen who had nothing to lose except his life.

Maybe that was the beauty, after being abandoned of everything, how willing we are to give up ourselves?

The kid stumbled back, pressing himself up against the tree. “You’re not real,” he gasped out, violently clutching his hair.

_ Wilbur Soot _

Techno looked at him, watching how the snowflakes clung to Wilbur like suffocating webbing. Did he look as such when Phil found him seasons ago?

“You’re cold.”

Wilbur drew himself tighter inward, his eyes darted around, sporadic and jumpy. 

_ We are all born mad. Some remain so. _

Techno extended Wilbur a silent hand, beckoning. He watched as the brunet stared at it, his focus sharpening before slowly grasping it. Who was he to ignore the call as Techno couldn’t all that time ago?

He led the boy home, a place where the sun never ceased to shine and all was warm and safe. Techno always had the lingering thought he had died in the forest. The cabin- Phil- they both weren’t normal. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was home after all.

And seasons later, when Wilbur came through the door with two boys, one barely hanging onto life, he accepted it. This was home. This was family.

And he was going to keep it that way, even if it was the last thing he did.  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> AYO I FINIALLY DEMOLISHED MY WRITERS BLOCK
> 
> Wanna join us?
> 
> https://discord.gg/F45snW5q2b


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